


Domestic Affairs

by JazzRaft



Series: Dark at Night [24]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Various, light shorts ranging from dopey drunk fluff to more awkward dining experiences with dad. Family, friends, and fond moments.





	1. tardy n' tense

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/158317504217/i-love-your-noctnyx-and-thanks-so-much-for-writing) for an anonymous request.

It had become a weekly tradition.

Every Saturday. Five o’ clock. Dinner with Dad.

It was coming up on the one year anniversary since the first time Regis had invited him to his table. (Nyx _still_ had nightmares about it.) In all that time, Nyx had never been late for one. But tonight, he nearly forgot about it entirely… Well, no, not “nearly,” he _completely_ forgot about it until Regis sent him an inquiring text half past five. He’d fallen like a tumbleweed out of his apartment and nearly got run over – _twice_ – as he bolted across the city. He collapsed into the doorway of the royal dining room, heaving air through his lungs like they were a goddamn accordion.

Regis had only a sympathetic smile and a glass of wine ready for him.

Nyx had never quite gotten rid of the notion that the most insignificant of slights might offend the King into ordering his execution. (There was no death penalty in Lucis. Regis remained confounded as to how Nyx got this idea into his head.) Despite the amiable repertoire Nyx and Regis had built together since Nyx’s romantic involvement with the King’s son, Nyx still couldn’t quite dissociate from his delusions of impending demise. While Regis was kind and witty to a sharp point that could puncture through Nyx in long wheezes of laughter, the man was still a _king_ and _his boss_ … And the _father_ of the guy Nyx did absolutely _filthy_ things to on various surfaces throughout the Citadel. That part scared him the most.

“Distracted today?” Regis asked him as Nyx downed the proffered wine a little more greedily than normal.

“Lil’ bit,” Nyx sighed, dropping the glass to the table and reflexively tapping his phone, even though it had given no indication that it had received a message.

Regis’s own phone was on the table, his hand curled just beside it, barely restrained from snapping open to tap obsessively at the dark screen. Noctis and his entourage had departed earlier that day. By some miracle. Because when Nyx met Noctis in the shadow of the Citadel just before he left, he held him so hard and so tight that he was sure he would never let him go.

It had been a long night of love-making the hours before, to make up for how many days they would be apart. Nyx promised to send him incriminating text messages throughout the entire trip and levied for private video calls that made Noctis turn a bright scarlet, but got no rejection. And he promised that Noctis could call him at any moment he was free and Nyx would tell him he loved him across all that distance. And Noctis promised to steal the wheel of the Regalia as much as he could to floor the gas pedal and shorten their time abroad so they could come home that much quicker.

It had taken a mutually received text from Regis on the Citadel steps for them to break apart, and even then Noctis distracted himself from leaving by drawing lusting kisses out of Nyx. Prolonged, _hot_ reminders of the intensity leftover from their last night together.

It had been absolute _agony_ watching the Regalia pull out from the Citadel. Nyx still wondered if it was too late to bribe an official into letting him shadow the car all the way to Altissia and back. (He’d tried already. Drautos was a bitch. So was Cor – damn Crownsguard.)

“I had the chef prepare Galahdian tonight, given it’s just the two of us,” Regis told him from across the table, helpfully distracting Nyx from his pining thoughts.

“Finally building up a stomach for it?” Nyx teased.

The first time Regis had tried Galahdian cuisine, Nyx broke out in a cold sweat, thinking he’d inadvertently assassinated the King of Lucis. Galahd was in the middle of a _desert._ They liked it hot over there. Nyx didn’t know his voice could get so high when he went into full-on panic mode, thinking the amount of fiery peppers he’d put into the garula was burning out his king’s aged heart. Meanwhile, Noctis had laughed so hard he’d cried. Nothing cemented a relationship better than nearly hospitalizing your potential father-in-law with your cooking.

“I do believe I’m developing a tolerance for it, yes,” Regis replied, straightening in his chair with a touch of indignation. “Besides that, I thought it might be a decent seg-way into apologizing.”

Nyx poured himself another glass of wine – something he’d learned to grow a taste for since dining with the royal family.

“What could you do, right? It’s peace with the least peaceful people in the world. Not a deal you can pass up. Besides it doesn’t change anything.”

Regis lifted an inquisitive brow, taking a more reserved sip of his own wine. “Really? I had feared it would change a great deal.”

“You’re definitely your son’s father, ‘cause he thought the same thing,” Nyx chuckled, always marveling at just how similar the Caelums were, even as they were so vastly different. “I’ll tell you what I told him: none of this changes how I feel about Noctis. I’m always gonna love him. It’s probably going to make appearances for this marriage hell, but…”

Nyx spread his palms and shrugged. He wouldn’t stop seeing Noctis. He didn’t stop himself from falling for him because of Lucian principles, and he wouldn’t stop being in love with him for Niflheim’s war games. They were both too stubborn for abiding by the rules, anyway.

“I would have liked having you as a son-in-law, Nyx. And I’m grateful for how happy you continue to make Noctis,” Regis said, a weary smile on his face.

“It’s an honor and a privilege, Your Majesty.”

They each raised their glass in a silent toast.

As the wait staff was rolling out the meal, each of their phone’s buzzed, one after the other. Nyx was on it like an imp on dropped gil. Answering text messages was like a tiny ritual for Regis. He unfolded a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket, carefully adjusted them on his face, before blinking at the screen of the phone. He held it away from himself to better make out the tiny words.

“A little car trouble along the way, but they’ve made it to Hammerhead. ‘Enjoying crotchety mechanic hospitality.’ Yes, that does sound like Cid.” Regis snorted softly and proceeded to slowly traverse the keyboard with a reply. “I suppose you received about the same?”

Nyx hid his face behind his phone so he could fight off the flush of his skin. He swallowed the gathering dryness in his throat from the obscene nature of Noct’s messages.

“Err, yeah! Pretty much the same.”


	2. sister stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> noctis asks about selena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/158326474177/it-can-be-sad-or-happy-but-what-about-noctis) for [kouaka.](http://kouaka.tumblr.com/)

“Why’d you never mention that you had a sister?”

Noctis was careful about how he asked it, unsure of just how sensitive a subject it may be. He didn’t think that it would be, not since Nyx’s friends spoke of her so casually. They’d seemed genuinely surprised when they brought her up and Noctis had no idea who she was.

“Um… Who’s Selena?”

Libertus and Crowe – the only ones that new about his hardly-a-secret-anymore relationship with Nyx – had paused mid-reminisce to fix him in matching quizzical stares.

“You’ve been going out for a half a year and he hasn’t brought up family?” Crowe asked, confounded.

Noctis shook his head, internally cringing because, _gods_ , what did that say about him as Nyx’s boyfriend if he didn’t know his family? (And they _were_ boyfriends. It took them a while before deciding on an appropriate label. Although they hadn’t followed the correct _order_ of the courtship rules, all the important ingredients were there. They dated, they held hands, they kissed, they fucked; they were boyfriends.)

When he did ask, during the commercials of their favorite prime-time drama consisting of a crime-fighting sassy sister duo, Nyx merely blinked, cocked his head to the side, and went, “Huh.”

It had just never come up, they concluded. There wasn’t any particular reason. Nyx teased that it was because Noctis was _so_ distracting, which he proceeded to prove by kissing up and down his neck. The scruff of his beard tickled along Noctis’s skin and he bit down on a laugh to contain himself from becoming a giggling mess.

“Will you tell me a little bit about her?” he said before Nyx could press him down to the couch and tickle him senseless.

“Should we really be talking about my _sister_ when we’re doing _this_?”

Nyx’s teasing pecks turned into a hot press of his mouth along the curve of where Noctis’s jaw met his neck, just beneath his ear. _Cheating._ As usual. Noctis groaned, torn, and Nyx interpreted the noise as approval, rumbling against his throat. Just as he was shifting to crowd Noctis into the corner of the couch, the prince managed to wriggle his arms against his chest and nudge him back.

“Come on, please? You know my one family. I think it’s only fair I get to know yours a little bit… Unless it’s too hard to talk about?”

Nyx sighed, a huff of warm breath all along Noctis’s neck. He leaned back, his eyes thoughtful as he looked at Noctis.

“I wouldn’t say it’s hard,” he told him. “Like all grief, it gets easier over time – and it’s been a long time. But, there are still good days and bad days, ya’know?”

“Is today a bad day?”

Nyx’s fingers fondled through Noctis’s hair, sliding effortless patterns between the chaotic strands. It had become a completely unconscious habit, one that mutually benefitted them both. Noctis loved the way those hands felt in his hair, calloused thumbs rough and gentle, rubbing circles into his scalp; turning every lock into lazy loops around his fingers. Nyx smiled down at him, lop-sided and as sweet as a scoundrel.

“Nah. Today’s pretty good.”

He moved to lean against the back of the couch and Noctis fit himself into his favorite space between his arm and his side.

“Sellie,” Nyx mused for a moment, collecting all the thoughts entitled to that nickname. “She was the best of us. Kind and smart and funny. Forgiving up until a point. She could absolve any sin unless it was a crime against her family. You could mess with her all you damn well pleased and she’d take it with a smile. But if you messed with her family… One time me and Libs got into so much trouble with the local gang – I may have mouthed off to guy for not paying for his cigarettes” – Noctis gave him a look that said “No, really, you? Mouthing off? I’m shocked!” and Nyx chuckled before going on – “We got our asses handed to us out in the alley, and by the time Ma and Sellie came looking for us, the guys were long gone.

‘Didn’t run quite far enough though. Ma took us home to get bandaged up and I had no idea where Sellie went off to until I heard about it later. Turns out, she got a bunch of her friends – and these weren’t like, big, butch friends ya’know? Sellie was a geek, total hippie. She ran with the crowd that were wheezing through inhalers during gym class. Not exactly the type of people you’d think to take on the tough guys with. Turns out, one of them was a wannabe hacker. Figured out where the guys went through the traffic cameras or some shit. They all track them down at this seedy ass bar on the edge of town. Motorcycles all lined up out front. They end up emptying the gas tanks and stuffing them with these malboro vines they dredged up from the biology lab and every time that gang drove through town after, everybody stopped being scared because they just _smelled_. So bad. People ended up laughing them out of town, I swear to Shiva.”

Nyx told him stories like that for _hours._ Noctis vaguely wondered if the reason they’d never started talking about Selena was because Nyx just couldn’t _stop_ once he did. Noctis didn’t mind listening, though. He smiled softly throughout every tale, laughing every time that Nyx started laughing over a tale of particular hilarity. It was as if no time had passed since the memories that Nyx recalled. And it felt like no time passed as he told them, either.

The more he talked, the more he softened around the edges. His eyes opened a little bit wider, flashed a little bit brighter; his smile broke a little bit farther across his face. He almost looked like a kid again, excitedly babbling about his hero. Noctis was happy to lean on his shoulder to watch and to listen. He rarely got to see a side of Nyx so open and so animated. He’d been tender to Noctis and vulnerable with him, but this was something different. Something innocent. And it made Noctis fall a little bit more in love with him.

It was Nyx’s own yawning that finally convinced him to stop talking. Noctis’s eyes were so heavy by the end of the night, but he would have never told him he was tired of listening to his stories.

“I’ll take you to meet her sometime,” Nyx yawned, sinking lower on the couch, curling his arm around Noctis and tucking him into his chest.

“Would that be okay?” Noctis asked, aware that Galahdians were a very close-knit bunch. Outsiders, especially Lucian, were still regarded with scorn by a lot of them. He wasn’t sure if visiting a Galahdian’s grave would be considered disrespectful, given that it was half the fault of his own people that got her killed in the first place.

None of this was going through Nyx’s head. He burrowed his face in Noctis’s hair and hugged him close.

“Yeah. More than okay. She’s going to love you.”

Noctis smiled and turned his face up to rest in the slope of Nyx’s neck.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”


	3. kupo!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kupo. kupo k-u-p-o kuPO! kupo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/158420245312/noctis-doing-moogle-kupo-dance-was-so-adorable) for an anonymous request.

“I am not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“Oh well. I am.”

Noctis dragged Nyx into the center of his living room, bumping into the coffee table with a light curse that made Nyx smile. Noctis resumed his endeavor as if it hadn’t happened. Pain didn’t seem to register quite as well with the prince when he was drunk. Made him do a lot of stupid things if Nyx wasn’t there to hold him back. The most recent stupid thing (while harmless) being to teach Nyx this weird dance he was half-certain Noctis had dreamt up during a detox.

Noctis turned to face him, fumbling for his hands which Nyx helpfully fit into the disoriented probing of his fingers. Noctis gave him a proud smile, as if he’d accomplished the hand-holding, when they were eventually clasped together.

“It’s easy,” Noctis told him. “Right. Left. Right. Spin.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a dance,” Nyx chuckled.

Noctis gave him an indignant pout. “Moogles don’t need much. Thas the whole point. They dance on the inside.”

“Mmhm, okay.”

Nyx didn’t have the heart to argue semantics about avatars for childhood whimsy. Especially not when Noctis got so passionate about the things he used to love as a kid once he was drunk. Noct was a regressive drinker. Booze reduced him to the inhibitions of a reckless child. He got into all kinds of trouble, cried at tiny tragedies – wilted flowers, whimpering puppies – and always expected to be right. Nyx thought it was all adorable.

Noctis swayed their entwined hands, urging Nyx to pay attention and follow the steps. Nyx dutifully fixed his eyes on Noctis’s feet. One step right, a shuffle to the left, a shuffle back to the right, then Noctis let go of his hand to demonstrate this awkward little spin, shaking his arms above his head as he went. Nyx had to bite down so hard on his lip to keep from laughing, he thought he might have broken the skin.

“Your turn,” Noctis said in a teasing sigh, pushing a finger into Nyx’s chest.

“If you insist,” Nyx sighed.

He took the first step right and Noctis was already stopping him, grumbling to himself as he stepped forward and adjusted Nyx’s arms up to his chest.

“Forgot,” the prince mumbled. “Those go there.”

“Ookay. What do you want me to do with them?”

“Act cute.”

Noctis stared at him like that was the most obvious instruction in the world _, gods, Nyx, it’s not that complicated_. He could practically hear the inner impudence. Nyx rolled his eyes, but got the jist of what the prince wanted. He tucked his arms against his chest, curled his hands into fists, and just moved with the simple steps. Right, left, right, an easy little spin with his arms thrown over his head. When he turned back to Noctis, the prince was staring at him. Nyx spread his palms in a “ta da” motion and that made Noctis snort with laughter, turning bright red and covering his mouth.

“I’m _so_ sorry, this was so dumb,” he laughed to himself.

“It was cuter when you did it,” Nyx assured him, sneaking an arm around his waist while he was laughing.

He pulled Noctis towards him – mostly to keep him from stumbling into one of the hard edges of his furniture – and Noctis magnetized himself to Nyx’s chest. He wrapped his arms around the glaive and _purred_ before proceeding to, er, speak moogle.

“You’re kupo,” he hummed.

“Kupo to you, too?” Nyx turned a quizzical stare to his floor. As if that could translate moogle speech for him.

“Kupo, kupo,” Noctis sighed, nuzzling his face into Nyx’s chest.

All of his weight started leaning into Nyx before he realized that the prince was falling asleep on his feet. Nyx didn’t bother to hide his chuckle then, leaning down to catch his arms beneath Noctis’s legs and lift him into his arms. Noctis bubbled little laughs into his neck as Nyx carried him to the bedroom. Noctis’s hands curled into Nyx’s hair and he pulled his face up to his ear.

“Kupo?” he asked, a deep, husky note that tickled the side of Nyx’s face.

Nyx shook his head. “Mm-m kupo.”

“Kupooo,” Noctis said with a downtrodden pout.


	4. sweet nothings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the prince prepares for a public appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159696681817/nyxnoct-fluff-why-do-i-even-bother) for [aithilin](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/) from [this prompt post.](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159638211212/five-word-prompts)

“Why do I even bother?” Noctis said to his reflection.

He dragged the tie from around his neck, a hiss of silk that sounded like the whispers he wasn’t prepared to deal with tonight. Which was what annoyed him about the whole thing the most; that he _wasn’t_ prepared. After being dragged to so many of these things over the years, after drilling for them weeks ahead of time, somehow, the day always arrived and he _still_ wasn’t ready for it.

He used to be good at pretending. He would pull on dumb costumes as a kid and he could transform himself into a fantastical creature in a blink of his father’s fond stare. But the mantle of the Prince had never quite fit him right. He used to think that maybe he could grow into it. That maybe, in enough time, his arms would fit through the sleeves of the blazer without getting stuck in them. That maybe he could button the shirt all the way up without feeling like he was choking beneath it.

But he was nearly twenty and his hands still shook when he tried working a tie by himself. If he hadn’t gotten the act down by now, he wasn’t sure he ever would. He spent the next five minutes glaring at himself and his incomplete attire, considering whether or not he might incite an international incident by not attending the benefit. A knock on the door to the bedroom suite put a pause on those escape plans.

“If I come in there and find a bed-sheet rope thrown out the window, I swear to the Six, Noct…”

His reflection softened with a smile at the sound of Nyx’s long-suffering sigh. As if he could see the smile through the doors, inviting him inside, Nyx slipped into the suite. His image in the mirror grew bigger and bigger over Noctis’s shoulder until the glaive was pressed up behind him, arms fitting around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder as if he’d always belonged there.

“How’s my favorite public figurehead doing?”

Noctis groaned and needed to say nothing more before Nyx was pouting at his reflection in agreement. These political functions were anxiety traps for the both of them in different ways. Nerves bursting at the slightest threat of humiliation for Noctis; an anxious simmer of stagnation for Nyx.

“You would make a better prince than me,” Noctis sighed into the quiet.

Nyx snorted against his neck, the sensation tickling Noctis’s throat so he flinched, biting down a giggle. His hands came up to rest along Nyx’s arms, marveling at how quickly his lover could calm the tremors that had assailed his fingertips only a moment ago.

“That could not be further from the truth,” Nyx replied.

“Oh, I dunno,” Noctis said, tilting his head to bump against his. “You like chatting people’s ears off. Like being the center of attention. A show-off. The worst gossip I think I’ve ever met. Seriously, I’ve talked to Accordons with more tact…”

“ _Wow_ , thanks, I love you, too?”

Nyx glared up at him in the mirror, placing a pointed kiss above the collar of his shirt to prove that “ _I still love you anyway._ ” Noctis smiled and pulled Nyx’s arms a little tighter around him, sinking back into his chest and nudging his head against the side of his face. Nyx lifted it enough for Noctis to tuck himself beneath his chin. The prince listened to the steady thump of his pulse, inhaled on each downbeat, and closed his eyes so he could pretend that they were in the middle of Nyx’s apartment. He focused on the scent of him that had become so familiar to Noctis over the past year, as it left home with him on his clothes, tickled at his nose every time he rested his face against the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’d be good at this because you’re not afraid of anything,” Noctis mumbled, rocked by the gentle back and forth of the glaive’s body around him.

“Also not true,” Nyx chuckled into his hair, the deep rumble of his voice in his chest against Noctis’s back chasing away the last knots of nerves. “I’m afraid that you’re going to make yourself sick over this thing. I’m afraid of you getting hurt by people that don’t know how to talk to you.”

Noctis nuzzled into the hollow of Nyx’s throat, his words barely a hum as he asked, “And how do you think I should be talked to?”

He felt the shape of Nyx’s mouth turn into a smile. His arms lifted along Noctis’s chest, grasping his arms to turn him around. Nyx smiled down at him, a fondness that bled through his eyes and softened all of the rough lines on his face. Made Noctis want to press his own face to his and just _breathe._ Nyx reached down and slipped the tie that Noctis had wound around his hand from his grasp, gently adjusting it around the prince’s neck as he spoke.

“You should be talked to with only the sweetest words. In whispers and laughter and with all the warmth in the world. You should be talked to like you’re a secret. Quietly, in the dark, kept safe. Preferably in my bed. Later tonight?”

“If I survive?”

“And even if you don’t. But I know that you will.” Nyx finished fixing his tie – it was perfect – and kissed the tip of his nose. “You always do.”

“Where are you going to be stationed?” Noctis asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“Eh, I don’t know. Could be in the West Wing, could be in the ballroom…” Nyx gave him a secretive smile. “I go where I’m needed.”

Noctis breathed out a hopeful sigh, stepping into Nyx’s space and wrapping his arms around him. Nyx squeezed him tight, a final assurance before pressing another kiss to his hair.

“You got this, Noct.”


	5. cough medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even the roughest, toughest warriors aren't immune to the common cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159735615487/nyxnoct-youre-just-so-so-stupid-please-d) for [bezier-curve](http://bezier-curve.tumblr.com/) from [this prompt post.](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159638211212/five-word-prompts)

“You’re just… so, so stupid.”

Nyx scrunched up his nose. Not exactly the bedside manner he was expecting from his self-designated nurse.

“You can’t prove that,” he mumbled in his defense.

Noctis tilted a challenging look at him, one that Nyx didn’t hesitate to meet. His stomach sunk when Noctis whipped out his phone, thumbed through his messages, and turned the incriminating texts towards his face like a policeman from a late night crime drama, glaring a light-bulb into the suspect’s eyes.

A conversation between Noctis and Crowe. Penned two days ago while she was on mission with Nyx:

CROWE: This idiot’s going to catch his death. Tell him to put a coat on or something.  
NOCTIS: Nyx, put a coat on or something. Your future king orders it.  
CROWE: …Nope.  
NOCTIS: What do you mean “nope?”  
CROWE: Nope, I’m not repeating what he said. I refuse to be ambassador to one of your marital spats.  
NOCTIS: Knock his ass out and put a coat on him.  
CROWE: At this point, he deserves to die a horrible, sneezing death. I’m letting him freeze.

“I run hot, okay?” Nyx growled as if the phone was a pint-sized Crowe in Noctis’s palm. “I didn’t shiver once.”

“Well, those shivers are catching up with you now, aren’t they?”

“Smug is a very unattractive look for you.”

It lost any of the impact he may have intended for it as Nyx sneezed and huddled back beneath the cocoon of blankets Noctis had entrapped him within. The prince had hauled about five more than was necessary over to Nyx’s apartment. He could sweat out the fever just fine with his single, frayed, knit-with-love from his mother when he was twelve quilt, thanks very much. But Noctis was persistent. And more than a little annoyed that Nyx had lied to him between worried texts about being sick. (Crowe sold him out. Again. Goddamn that woman.)

Noctis’s frustration vanished in a huff as he watched Nyx sniffle and scrunch his shoulders against a chill that came from nowhere. He reached around the disgruntled glaive and adjusted some of the disheveled folds. Nyx didn’t have the energy to shrug him off. He barely had enough energy to snipe at him in the first place. And he hated that, he hated feeling like every bone in his body weighed a hundred-thousand pounds. He hated how it felt like there was cotton stuffed in his brain. He hated the complete lack of function.

He’d only been truly, fully sick for about eight hours now and he already felt like the walls were closing in. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get into uniform, he needed to get into the training arena, he needed to warp; he needed to do _anything_ but just sit here glowering at the foot of his bed and repeating the commander’s clipped, brusque orders to “take a sick day” before marching off. He hated the stupid sound of his dumb stupid boots ringing off the stupid floors as he marched his dumb ass off to duty without him.

Nyx sneezed again, and then half-roared, half-whined in annoyance.

“It’s just a few days,” Noctis tried to console him.

“I don’t get sick,” Nyx grumbled. “I don’t have _time_ to be sick.”

“Lucky for you that your CO has _made_ time for you to be sick.”

Nyx made a sound like a hiss at him for daring to bring Drautos up. He could see him and Crowe standing side-by-side in his mind’s eye, wearing identical expressions that screamed “we told you so.”

“Yeah. Woo. Lucky,” Nyx scoffed.

Noctis sunk onto the edge of the bed next to him, one leg folded beneath him. He reached within the mess of blankets to find Nyx’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze to match his smile.

“It won’t be so bad,” he promised. “We’ll make the most of your time off. Binge on that superhero drama you’ve been telling me you wanted to watch. I can bring a few games over, maybe steal a few of Spec’s home-cooked remedies, and mess around in the kitchen?”

“Spend too much time here, and you’re gonna end up sick yourself. I’d be endangering the welfare of the future king if I kept you around.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

Sort of, Nyx supposed. He really didn’t want to get Noctis sick. That would make him hate himself for catching the cold in the first place even more.

“Also, I don’t think I like you seeing me this way,” Nyx laughed around a cough. “I’m the hero in this relationship, right? Not very impressive hero material right now, huh?”

Noctis fondly stroked his fingers along one of the braids in Nyx’s hair, gently trailing along the tight weave to the end.

“I don’t know,” he teased. “It’s a little humbling, to be honest. Being reminded that you’re just as human as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, and it bites.”

Noctis laughed, lightly tracing his thumb along Nyx’s jaw. His eyes traveled over Nyx’s face, fretting over the pink flush to his cheeks and the gross film of sweat along his forehead. Noctis smiled, sympathetic to his red-rimmed glare that he aimed at his palm as he coughed into it. When he was finished, Noctis leaned forward and pressed a careful kiss to his temple.

“About time you let me have a turn at taking care of you for once.”

Nyx whined, but didn’t object otherwise. He would feel even more miserable than he did right now if he ended up passing on the cold to Noctis. But he’d also feel just as miserable not seeing him in the days that were to come. He knew it was selfish not to argue that Noctis should steer clear of him for as long as the cold took to pass. But his head was too clouded to think of not being selfish.

Besides, with that doting smile soothing his itchy eyes, Nyx was already starting to feel better.


	6. cough medicine ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neither of them handle head-colds with grace.

“I made your favorite.”

A wary and weary eye peeked at him from beneath the blanket drawn over the prince’s head. A suspicious sniffle and a glassy stare regarded the steaming bowl in Nyx’s hand. He sympathized with his boyfriend that his sinuses were so stuffed that he couldn’t smell anything. Food was best enjoyed with a functioning olfactory system, Nyx thought. (That, or he was just bummed that Noctis couldn’t revel with him about how great it smelled – if he did say so himself.)

“No veggies, I promise,” Nyx said as he passed the bowl off to him. “But it’s the closest thing to quillhorn soup that I figured you’d eat.”

“I don’t mind quillhorn soup.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s not your _favorite_. Only the best for the little king on his sick days.”

Noctis managed a wan smile, blinking heavy lids like an adoring housecat. He shook the blanket from his head before probing at the rice and chickatrice meat with his chopsticks and gathering a small clump to pop into his mouth. He chewed, slowly, for a moment, before closing his eyes and sighing in relief.

“I must be getting better. I can actually taste!”

“And does it taste to His Highness’s preferences?”

Noctis pushed his shoulder into Nyx’s, soft and sluggish. Nyx smiled as the prince took another mouthful of the dish. It was good to see his appetite coming back. Better to see him smile, no matter how small.

Nyx didn’t know which one of them was more miserable when Noctis first fell ill. The prince was the last kind of mess Nyx ever wanted to make of him. And he was _sure_ that it was his fault he caught this little head-cold. Nyx had been trying not to sneeze on him all of last week while Noctis stubbornly camped out in his apartment to take care of him. Nyx knew that the only thing that could have made that whole week _worse_ was if he got Noctis sick, too.

His heart dropped when he got the sad, sniffling emojis explaining why Noctis had to cancel their plans a few days ago. Nyx wanted to march straight over to the prince’s apartment and return the favor of looking after him. But the omnipresent obstacle of Ignis, snapping to and from Noct’s bedside, kept him away. It was difficult to find a sensible excuse for an off-duty glaive to be visiting the Crown Prince at his home. Security detail wasn’t going to cut it – what was Nyx going to protect him from? The germs that he passed onto him in the first place?

With some careful timing and stuffy-nosed diverting, Noctis managed to send Ignis out of the apartment that day on a quest for a rare super-food he’d “read about on the internet,” adamant that it would speed up his recovery. A despairing blink of watery eyes and a puffy-lipped pout later, and the apartment sentinel left the doors to his damsel’s quarters un-guarded.

“Did you do this up Galahdian-style?” Noctis asked around another bite, taking larger and faster ones as he dug deeper into the bowl.

“Old, home-coast spices, yup. Adds a little heat in there. That’ll clear you up like fire on a malboro’s hide.”

Noctis gave a wet snort and rolled his eyes at him. But he was smiling. And while it didn’t do much to clear his head, it was a remedy on Nyx’s nerves that he’d frayed worrying about him. He hated being away from him. Especially in his time of need. Nyx huffed out a sigh and Noctis paused mid-chew, concern wrinkling his flushed brow.

“Nothing,” Nyx said to the unsaid question.

Noctis tilted his head to the side, eyelids drooping and lips turning down into a scowl. The “don’t bullshit me, Ulric” look. Not always exclusive to Noctis alone, that look.

“Be a lot easier for me to come spoil you when you’re sick if we weren’t sneaking around.”

Noctis looked back down at his quickly emptying bowl, taking a thoughtful nibble of the last bit of sauce-soaked chickatrice. He shrugged.

“No reason we couldn’t, right? I mean, the only thing you were afraid of was public execution.”

“A perfectly valid fear, by the way.”

Noctis chuckled, shaking his head. When Nyx had long ago voiced his fears about what Regis might do to him should he find out he was sleeping with his son, the prince had _laughed_. Of all the things to be afraid of his father for, apparently, death for fornicating with the royal heir was not a substantial threat. But Nyx still wasn’t entirely certain that Regis wouldn’t maim him and broadcast the brutality across network television if he did his son wrong.

“Ask me again when I can think straight,” Noctis mumbled, setting his empty bowl to the bedside table. “I’m vulnerable and impeded. Anything sounds like a good idea right now.”

“ _Anything,_ huh?”

“Do I have to worry about you taking advantage of me while I’m easily susceptible to your charms, hero?”

“Like you aren’t always susceptible to my charms?”

Noctis grinned, the clouds in his eyes clearing just enough for Nyx to catch that familiar spark of mischief that he’d been missing for the past few days. Then, Noctis smothered a dripping cough, then another, then growled at himself in annoyance. Nyx smiled, sympathetically, sidling against the pillows and draping an arm over Noct’s shoulders.

“The first day you’re back to a hundred percent,” Nyx promised as Noctis burrowed into his side with a forlorn whine. “We’ll celebrate your successful recovery until the sun comes up.”

“Mm, yes, please,” Noctis murmured.

He drew his knees up, turned on his side so they rested against Nyx’s hip. He shimmied one arm behind Nyx’s back, threw the other one across his waist, and hugged him in the lasso his linked wrists made around him.

“Well, this’ll be one way to break a secret,” Nyx mused. “Come on, Noct, you know I can’t stay much longer if you don’t want Specs finding us.”

“You’re warm.”

It was a weak, petulant little order. A statement, rolled into a command, whimpering off into a plea. And Nyx couldn’t deny any intonation. He sunk down onto the mattress, careful not to twist Noct’s arm wrapped around his back. He gave the prince’s shoulders a consoling squeeze before raising his hand to whisk through his hair. A deep, weighty sigh dropped out of Noctis at the touch.

“I miss you,” he said, hugging him tighter and nuzzling his face into Nyx’s shirt.

“Miss you too, little king,” Nyx said, leaning a kiss into the soft strands of hair. The stylish spikes were drooped as far down as his prince’s mood. “We’re getting grossly codependent, you know. Two days apart and I haven’t been able to get you off my mind for one.”

“Screw it. I’ll be as grossly codependent as I damn well please if it gets me a hot Galahdian glaive to wait on me.”

Nyx laughed and caught the curl of Noctis’s smile against his chest as he did. He couldn’t say that he objected to getting cuddled by a soft, sweet prince either.


	7. cruel games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nyx is bad at video games.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch him!”

“What if I dare?”

“He has nothing to do with this! I’m the one you want!”

“But just look at him. So vulnerable, so sweet. Such a shame if something were to happen to your poor, precious…”

“Noct!”

A swift, ruthless strike of a sword. A long, plaintive cry, his comrades freezing around him. Nyx’s breath plummeted from his chest. He couldn’t reach him in time. He’d failed.

A big and brutally red “YOU LOSE” stamped itself across the screen. His trio of characters collapsed to their knees in defeat, the specialist he’d tried so desperately to protect hugging his arms around his stomach as if the final blow actually pained him. Nyx threw up his hands and nearly threw the controller with them.

“What the _hell_ , Noctis?”

The prince was doubled over in a fit of giggles on the couch beside him, his controller bumping against his knee in time with the rhythm of his laughter.

“Holy Six, did you just hear yourself?” he wheezed. “That was the most genuinely – _hah_ – distressed sounding that I think I’ve” – he snorted – “I’ve ever heard you.”

Nyx glared at the TV. The victory theme trumpeted across the speakers as Noct’s team posed, the swordswoman that had felled his beloved specialist boasting the win with a flourish of her blade. She was just as smug as the man playing her, picking on his defenseless support while he was getting double-timed by Noct’s villainous support characters, Nyx’s own vanguard futilely trying to aid him when his specialist needed the help more.

Nyx loved that character, damnit! He didn’t deserve to be bullied like that! Sure, he had the lowest health in the character roster and his move-set left a lot to be desired. But his magic attacks were amazing and his special moves were powerful and he had an underdog backstory that hit Nyx right in the chest cavity. A street rat, optimist, caught up in circumstances he’d meant to avoid that ultimately led to his epic journey of adventure and evolution as a benevolent hero.

Why’d Noct have to go and do him dirty like that?

“You’re the worst,” Nyx grumbled.

“ _He’s_ the worst.” Noctis nodded at the character’s icon as the scoreboard tallied up. “Nyx, that’s the weakest character in the whole game.”

“He is _not_. People just don’t know how to play him right.”

“Yeah huh. That why you’re maining Dual Daggers here instead of Mr. Poor Misunderstood?”

Nyx glared at him, with his jutted out lip and his big doe eyes, mocking him for his attachment to a notoriously feeble fighter. While it was true that his favorite street rat wasn’t a character with the most intuitive of design for optimal player control, Nyx still liked him for his support services. Just because he couldn’t figure out how to play _as_ him didn’t mean he couldn’t be better utilized in a background role with a decent offense built up around him.

“It’s called _strategy_ , Noct.”

“That looks more like _losing,_ Nyx.”

“Six, you are such a sore winner.”

Noctis grinned, sitting up a little bit straighter with his head held high as he hit the button to take them to the next round. “With stakes like these? I think I’m allowed to be.”

Nyx rolled his eyes and prepared for the next match. He didn’t regret the wager, no matter if it looked like he was destined to pay it. They were both going to get a win out of it. If he lost, it was Noct’s choice of take-out for dinner. If he won, Nyx got to grill him up something savory and relatively healthier than fast food while Ignis was away from the apartment for him to abuse the state-of-the-art kitchen. Either way, they were both getting food out of it – and he was sure that Noctis would reap a few more rewards left unsaid in the stipulations of their bargain, too.

While Nyx wasn’t motivated to win or lose either way, he was still protective of his little street rat and he felt like he had something to prove on the character’s behalf. The kid had been through so much, his bio said so! Orphaned from birth, struggling to survive in the big city, raising himself alongside his rag-tag group of fellow beggars and thieves and all his friends abandoned to a life of kitchen scraps and shop-lifting. Nyx felt for him. He wanted him to succeed. He wanted him to take all the magic he’d spent so hard honing during his sleepless, half-starved nights and use it to prove himself against Noct’s cool and aloof lady-knight.

But she was badass and Noctis was good at games. Nyx’s wayward son didn’t stand a chance, even when he kept his assassin as close to his side as he could to keep him alive long enough to devastate the field with his spells. Somehow, Noct’s guys still slipped beneath his nose and beat the little mage to a pulp.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Noct’s knight announced with another twirl of her sword as the victory screen returned to applaud the prince’s skill.

Nyx shook his head and dropped it to his hands. Noctis shimmied across the couch and sat himself in Nyx’s lap, claiming some of his reward for winning in the form of short, sweet kisses against Nyx’s neck.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s cute how you look out for the little guy.”

It looked like it was worth a whole lot of pain if the anguished look on his team’s faces was any indicator. Nyx huffed and turned off the TV so he didn’t have to keep looking upon his shame. He’d much rather look on his spoils, kissing trails of consolation prizes against his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/170087971057/can-you-write-a-fic-with-the-prompt-dont-you) for an anonymous request.  
> If you enjoyed what you read, let me know down below!


	8. midnight melts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little comfort food goes a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/179048913542/prompt-time-late-night-snack-with-nyx) for [aithilin](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/).

Nyx woke up in the middle of the night.

Not a particularly noteworthy occurrence, given the frequency of his insomnia and the nightmares which triggered it. But it was different this time – particular _and_ noteworthy. Noctis always was.

Decades spent jostled between tormented glaives under the cramped canvas of their camps – of training himself to snap awake at the slightest sound or scent or sense of _wrong_ (being a brother had afforded him that unique intuition long before the Glaive) – primed Nyx for the minute shifts of slumber that pleaded for his aid.

Noctis was wound up tight against his side, a bundle of pale, wrought muscle coiled to snap at the slightest tug. He was clipped around Nyx like the immovable vice-hold of a sahagin’s powerful jaws, delicate tremors shivering beneath his skin from the pressure of his embrace. Nails hooked around Nyx’s shoulder, knees punctured his thigh, and the smallest, nearly inaudible gasps of shallow, laboring breaths scraped his ears.

Nyx blinked the smudges from his eyes – no daemons, no Nifs; _we’re not under attack_ – then pooled a breath deep in his chest, raising Noct on the inhale and bracing himself on the exhale. Slowly, carefully, he folded an arm around Noct, hand cupping his shoulder and squeezing as the quivering skin filled his palm.

“Noct.”

It came out like a clump of canyon dust. Nyx swallowed to clear his throat and tried again, thumb nursing half-moons against Noct’s shoulder. He shook him to wake him this time, gently coaxing him back to the dim light of the wakeful world.

“Noct, baby, c’mon, wake up. It’s a dream, little king. C’mon, come back to me.”

Noctis slept like the dead on a good day – sometimes it could take Nyx up to an hour just to rouse him, and never without coffee, ready and waiting as a reward. On the bad nights, when Noctis was desperately searching for an escape from his nightmares, sometimes it took barely a touch. He was just waiting for someone to call him back home.

One firm shake and an urgent murmur in his ear ripped Noctis up and awake, like a bandage being pulled off of Nyx, sudden and abrupt, and leaving a cold sting of air against his skin. Noctis cursed, quietly, and sat up, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes.

Nyx waited a beat – three even breaths (he’d gotten good at this, counting the rhythm of awakening and the rescue which followed) – before pulling himself up beside Noctis. His apartment was still dark, pale blue brackets of Wall light striping the bedsheets through the blinds. The subtle shifts of its magic moved like moonlight underwater across Noct’s bare back. Nyx reached out, fitting his fingertips between the grooves of his spine. His flesh was warm to the touch and gradually cooling, light with damp like a cold glass bottle left under the sun.

Nyx didn’t ask if he was “alright.” He didn’t trivialize his trauma with an “are you okay?” Of course he wasn’t. Neither of them were. (Was anybody, really?) But he made sure Noct was _here_ , that he was with him, that he’d made it out of whatever dark place held him prisoner after midnight.

“What do you need?”

“Therapy,” Noctis chuckled. “A dream psychologist. Maybe they can explain this bullshit to me.”

“Tell me what it was about?”

“I don’t even remember.” Noctis shook his head, lifting his face from his hands, the rims of his eyes wet and smudged. He sighed, swiping at his face in frustration. “I guess it must have been pretty bad though.”

He pawed for his phone on the windowsill, flinching from the blast of artificial light in his face. It was just past midnight, early for his dreams to startle them both awake. Too early to excuse himself from the rest of sleep to start the day, when day itself still had hours left to sleep. Noctis tossed the phone to the foot of the bed, propping his elbows on his knees to carry his head in his hands.

“Sorry,” he growled. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Nyx kneaded his fingers up Noct’s spine, pressing and circling and massaging his way up to the hard knob at the base of his neck. He gently seized Noct there, seeking out the knots clustered beneath his skin, pressing in deep to chase out the lingering cabal of terrors that plagued his dreams.

Nyx prolonged the quiet of the evening, let Noctis acclimate to the sounds of the district outside their window – the muted rumble of sleepless city traffic, the voiceless mumble of midnight conversation, the hiss of exhaust fumes and the whirr of industrial fans and the distant sound of music playing at someone else’s party. He let Noctis feel the touch, relent to reality, remember what was real and safe and closer to him than Nyx would ever let anything get to hurt him.

Once he felt him start to melt, sighing out through his nose and letting his shoulders slide down from where they were clenched beneath his ears, Nyx asked, “Want some food?”

Noctis snorted – so undignified of a prince, Nyx should tease him, just to get him to laugh – and raised his face from his hands to blink bleary, reddened eyes up at him. He gave him a nonplussed look, lips curling in surprised fondness for the suggestion. That was all the approval Nyx needed, imparting a kiss to Noct’s shoulder before untangling himself from the sheets.

“Can you make it in the dark, though?” Noctis yawned, forbidding Nyx from reaching for the light switch.

“With my eyes closed,” Nyx promised.

Noctis – true to his name – was a nocturnal creature. He didn’t wake well to the sudden sharpness of morning light, wasn’t quick to greet the day nor prepared to receive it with the patient graces expected of royalty. He needed a slow introduction, time to familiarize himself with the light rather than be rushed through it. After midnight, when the sun was still so far across the sea and the city lights were low, the expectation of darkness presided. And that expectation state it would be rude to turn on a light.

Nyx’s guttering stove-top burner proposed a soft orange glow as an alternative. The low pulse of flame cast dull shadows across the countertop, their weary breaths of light and dark guiding his hands through the cupboards. His pitiful excuse for a pantry largely consisted of canned goods and frozen products – generally anything that didn’t have an expiration date (which, Libs warned him, likely meant it would kill him faster than letting himself splurge with his paycheck every once in a while).

He pulled an old box of macaroni from the back of the cupboard, and a block of half-used processed cheese from the fridge. “Hope my peasant’s gruel won’t ruin your delicate Lucian constitution.”

“Hope your treasonous poisoning of the prince doesn’t wring your brittle Galahdian neck.”

Nyx smiled into the little pot filling with water. Noct was going to be just fine. Better once he got a little commoner comfort food in him. It wasn’t of the same gourmet grandeur as the Citadel kitchens – or the Scientia approved one – but it was simple and warm and a universal comfort across all of Eos – it was carbs and cheese, how could it not be?

Nyx didn’t need to do much to doctor it up, the unnatural chemistry of the pair melting together in molten golden goodness once the pasta was done cooking and the cheese was introduced to the pot like an old friend. A splash of milk, a tiny pinch of red peppers, from home, for added warmth, and Nyx was back in bed with two rich bowls of ambrosia to offer in tribute to his prince.

“You’re too nice to me, Nyx,” Noctis muttered, accepting a bowl to warm his fingers around as he settled under Nyx’s arm.

“I can take it back to the kitchen,” Nyx teased.

Noctis drew the steaming bowl to his face, inhaling luscious curls of cheesy steam to claim as his own. He closed his eyes and sighed, a soft hum trilling from his throat. He opened them again, and smiled at Nyx, the easy effort of drowsiness pulling up his lips. “I promise I’ll pay for it later.”

Nyx knew there was no strength behind that promise, nor did he expect a fair trade just for taking care of Noct when he needed it. They would indulge in some cheap comfort food, talk a little, tease a little more under the ghostly gloom of the Wall’s iridescent waves, and then they would sleep. Better than before. Warm and full and safe under the sheets where the daemons couldn’t get them.

Between the King’s Wall and Nyx’s cooking – no matter how much Noctis complimented the heady bowl of gold – they were bound to send the bad dreams running.


End file.
